Copper Chronicles

My husband suggested hens’ aversion to rats originated in Europe during the plague. I can see why rubbery skulled, slithering creatures who carry disease give people creeps.

When I saw Rat, whom I affectionately named Squeeze, playing in the excessive straw that my childish mind imagined was “good” for the hen pen, it occurred to me to avoid stereotypes.

Squeeze’s ancestors likely did not plan the destruction of civilization, did they? Can you convict a creature of a crime if there is no “mens rea”? Can a Rat who has a pinhead possess the guilty mind or “criminal intention” necessary for punishment?   

My sister is “Old School.” She said I should shoot it. That was before I named him. I am not ready for another crisis of conscience. Yesterday we removed the excess straw that Squeeze was frolicking in, so he must continue finding his way according to his own nature. Rats have lived thousands of years without my help. Squeeze will be fine!

My husband also mentioned “Rat” means traitors in criminal business enterprises. Pinheads who are human beings clearly are more capable of “willful intent” (mens rea) although ‘guilty mind’ is questionable. Is the guilt of the mind or of the heart, or both?

My hens are out enjoying their fabulous forsythia hedge. It’s a tangled mess of branches so fun to navigate and explore. It’s perfect protection from predators.

I hope Rat redeems himself by continuing his way and not plotting any retaliation against me because of his removal from the pen. Squeeze may be a pinhead, but I have no proof he is a malevolent pinhead.

Now I know why we have trials (that is adversity, strains, and problems) to see what the truth about our nature is. Like “trials” in the sense of a criminal trial, where we sort out the facts to see whether the accused is guilty or innocent. Suffering is good, my trials are good, that is my conclusion, in the sense that it saves me from being a pinhead, willfully or ignorantly.

As for Rats generally speaking, one must not stereotype a person or creature. You need proof of ill-will. Did they plan to spread disease? Rats? How do you know? You need a trial. You need to seek truth. You need to study one’s nature in the trial.

The hens went to the hen playground yesterday. Such a liberating feeling for hens to do what hens enjoy and for me to be free of the anxious vigil.

Thinking about nature and finding out what is my moral obligation as a human being is satisfying. Finding meaning and purpose is the prize of living! The spell check asked if I meant to say “price” of living. They do seem related. But I meant to say “Prize.” I have not only discovered a Great Truth, but I have also been rewarded for just pursuing It. The Great Truth is the Prize!

I went through my mind menu of practical lessons yesterday and discovered lessons that worked. Not meditating on “What may happen?” Fear. Fear is nature’s psychopath. Why would I listen to a psychopath?

Own responsibility. It is easy to say. But deciding what IS and IS NOT my responsibility adds a layer of exploration where I root out what appears to be the problem from what IS the problem.

The problem isn’t Rat, or weasel, or hay. The problem was My willful choice to ignore a warning in my heart about too much hay. The problem is subsequent squalor conditions that arise from my willful ignorance. Doing “good” feels good! Yes, but Who defines what is “good”?

Clearly human beings cannot arrive at what is truly “good” without some existential knowledge to guide them. What we Think is good and what feels good clearly is not always good.

I feel stupid saying that, but there it is. That is why owning responsibility of the ROOT problem helps me solve and prevent future problems. The reward of happy, hardy hens awaits!

I am fortunate my husband is an engineer, who is helping me restore the hen pen to one that is free from my mistakes. It is nice to have a husband who doesn’t say: “I told you so.”  

In my story “Hens in a Hovel,” I suggested that hens are living in a difficult, even hostile environment. While a hovel suggests squalor, the low conditions (poor quality commercial food and non-existent health care) is not one I can easily change myself. In “Wet Hens” I explored the idea that Job demonstrated more confidence in the power of evil to destroy him than in the power of God to deliver him.

I think people generally understand that we suffer for our own foolishness? Except a foolish person will wield a hammer sloppily, strike his thumb, and curse “Jesus Christ!” (You’re the dummy with the hammer in your hand. I am sorry. You- hit- your- own- hand- with- a- hammer.)

It’s possible this world has become a hothouse environment which is why such delusional thinking exists. If you live in a safe-secure environment where everything is ‘fixed,’ where no challenges arise, and your participation in any useful enterprise is optional, people become weak, lazy, and ungrateful.

Camille Paglia suggests our civilization and its corruption is rooted in an obsession with self (for lack of better things to do). Wealth and privilege breeds ingratitude and narcissism. Uselessness.

I am guilty of spoiling my hens. When I received a warning in my heart to avoid spreading too much hay, I ignored it. Guilty! My hens spend too much time in the too warm hutch (too little light, fresh and activity). Rat cleverly positioned himself to enjoy the hay, while remaining in his underground existence. I am suffering because my workload just increased (trying to undo the damage).

However, I learned when I suffer to:

1. Avoid the anxious vigil like Job confessing Fear.
2. Face the problem by owning my failure and learn. Accountability.
3. Realize that the problem is the way (Marcus Aurelius). Avoiding life’s tests, we will continue in repeating cycles of defeat.

I am thankful for the lesson from the “Hothouse” I created. Hardy, useful hens have more fun. They are sturdy, reliable, and competent to face life’s challenges! Weak, wimpy ones fail (and their human counterparts) curse God for their own failures as though life is a conspiracy against them with Jesus Christ at the top. He is at the top. But our foolishness is entirely our own!

As a responsible hen owner, it is my duty to remove the hothouse conditions that are enabling the demise of the creatures I love. There will be discomfort, change, shock, and Awe! But it is ultimately for their own good.  

Hens are hiding out in their favorite location, a tangled overgrown twiggy mess which technically speaking is called a forsythia hedge. Forsythias grow like willows, that is, when a branch touches the ground, it will grow roots into it and continue sprouting more branches. The hedge looks like a jungle gym- hoop over hoop- like a giant twiggy fortress. Hens did not take a course in “Hen Security” but they found the safest spot in the yard and spend hours there unsupervised. Nature out-thought my best mechanization to create a safe pen! I really ought to spend more time thinking about nature.

The hens are ignoring me again but that is not unusual. The miscommunication starts with me not speaking “Chickenese” as my husband noted. The hens exist on another frequency that does not easily translate to my own. When I want the hens to come home, I usually sprinkle breadcrumbs to lead them to their safe hutch, water, and food dish. As the person, I reason this out to be necessary. However, on their frequency they’re having “hen time” doing “hen things” and don’t require any assistance.

The scene resembles when children are playing, and “mom” interrupts and ruins the fun. Mom is the interloper in that scenario. That must hurt a bit. It doesn’t hurt me that my hens ignore me, but I can see how it may hurt a mom or parent or God to be excluded from the action of the children they love.

It’s pouring rain and the hens have their exquisite outdoor gear on. Beautiful, weatherproof, apparel with camouflaging patterns. If I designed clothes that is what I would wear: all season protective gear that looks fabulous. Fur suits would be great, too. All the fuss about energy costs. How about dressing more warmly? We may risk looking like a Sasquatch, but things get slow in New England in winter. It might be fun.

After an hour or two of anxious vigil, my long bread crumb trail helped the hens get home for the day. I think, like children, once they have satisfied their eagerness for fun and adventure, ‘home’ is more welcome. Hunger and exhaustion from playing is good in a hen and a child. My job really isn’t to be involved in every little thing they do and hovering unnecessary. That is the Interloper!

Love and fear are often confused. I think that is where Job missed it. He opened the door to fear by obsessing what bad thing may happen even though everywhere he had evidence of God’s blessing and protection. Like me today, like helicopter parents, he kept an anxious vigil believing more in the thing he feared than he did in the power and goodness of his God.

Fear is such an unhealthy and debilitating habit: meditating on the unknown rather than seeking to know the truth. Fear is nature’s psychopath perhaps, closely related to weasels who killed a neighbor’s hens but didn’t eat them. Just killed them.     

Message from hens today: Have the courage to seek truth even when you are afraid. Especially when you are afraid!

Ben Franklin is attributed to saying: “Believe none of what you hear and half of what you see.” I didn’t give it much thought at first since I am a product of twentieth century egoism and think the only truth that matters is my own and my modern counterparts whose ‘truth’ (we are told) is as valuable as my ‘truth.’ That’s a liberating idea because my truth can be garbage. Like this one: “Raising hens is easy.” Or this one, “Chicken ‘security wire’ protects chickens.” See?

Franklin was warning us that “what appears to be” is only an appearance. And to warn us further, he cautions us that people’s opinions about “what appears to be” likely has no relationship to truth at all.

We can’t learn anything until we humble ourselves, that was a “truth” I learned worth keeping, so let’s start there.

The amount of things a human being must know to survive in this world with any degree of skill or satisfaction is incredible! First you must sort through the appearance of things to get to the reality of things (as Franklin warns us). That one assignment may take the rest of my life to learn and practice before developing any competency at it. Plus, you need to feed yourself and your hens (or whoever those ‘charges’ are in your life) and care for their health and well-being in a world which clearly does not particularly care about you or your well-being or your health. The FDA qualifies Twinkies as “food.” Doesn’t food need to possess nutrition to qualify as food?? And healthcare, only health care that is profitable is what matters. Hen health is not an issue. Your hens are disposable as are any creature who does not serve the so-called cloudy concept called “Progress.”

This is what happens when we are proud and foolish and do not sort out the appearance of a thing from reality of a thing as Franklin warns. It’s extremely profitable for powerful people for hens to be foolish. Eat this thing we call ‘food.’ Get sick. Buy this thing we call healthcare BUT as the disclaimer goes on television we cannot be held accountable if you get sick and die from our medications because we are powerful own everything including Washington D.C. and We make the rules. Period. That is what Franklin was warning us against.

Lesson for hens: “Believe none of what you hear and half of what you see.”

The hens and I have been at the wilderness encampment for a few months now. We explored the kinds of organization methods to ensure their well-being and survival. (If your survival is at stake, fun must wait.) There is a natural order to life’s demands which you can discover if you pay attention. Like my enthusiasm for hay has wreaked havoc on the natural order of the hen- rat relationship. Now we all are suffering the consequences. 

I sensed an admonition in an earlier post when I was happily holding hay. CS Lewis calls this an “Numinous” experience- where I am not quite alone and there is some great matter at hand that I need to pay attention to. Sadly, I reasoned within myself (because foolishly we believe that is all that matters) that no ill can come of TOO MUCH HAY and smugly assumed the ominous messenger was mistaken.

The result of my over enthusiasm for hay and pride was that rat moved into the hay with as much enthusiasm as I spread it. Tunneling under and around the hutch opens doors to any creature like snakes, rats, and weasels to gain access to the coop without any hardship. There is just no way of allowing rat his fun-having without these unplanned consequences which will destroy the hen’s well-being. And mine.

Rats can’t be allowed free reign because chaos will ensue. They burrow, they gnaw, they erode the foundation upon which the hutch stands. We’ll all be swallowed up in a sink hole if rats behavior is left unchecked. The natural order suggests I decide rat’s future as I have the biggest head. So, not to demonize rat unnecessarily, I will refer to him as “Squeeze” from now on.

Although Squeeze was happy in the abundance of straw I laid, he assumed my kindness was license to do whatever he may like to do. (He has a tiny head, so he can’t be counted on to view how his behavior may adversely affect others.) Regardless of how happy I was to supply heaps of straw and how happy Squeeze was to explore and enjoy its warmth and comfort, my kindness did not equal “goodness.” How could Squeeze make such a distinction that his natural tunneling behavior was damaging? Unless he received an ominous warning and ignored it? That was my job.

The second adverse effect of me ignoring the ominous warning about supplying too much “straw” “kindness” “goodwill” as I imagined, was that the hens are spending all their time in it. I have made a “Safe Space” that is almost detrimental to their health. No light! No exercise! No experiencing New England winter in all its glory and challenges. I have smothered them, NOT mothered them to be healthy, rugged, New England hens.

Two hens hiding out in their lonely (but warm) hutch. I need to get busy building a foundation for the hutch that Squeeze cannot permeate and destroy. The hens and Squeeze are depending on me to “right” what I have wronged by my foolish behavior and bring order and harmony to our existence.

Lesson for today: Listen to the ominous warnings in your heart when you are fortunate to hear them.

The little hutch and two hens are sitting out in the freezing weather. Lessons from nature abound in the scene like the arrival of juncos from Canada. All winter tiny visitors enjoy what to them is like a Florida vacation to us. Mild climate! Our Canadian guests are quite grateful to be here which reminds me of the power of gratitude.  

I am grateful for the cold I say and grateful for the challenge each day of living. I am grateful there is something beautiful and powerful at work in this world even if it is difficult to describe in words (as often as I try).

When we speak what we are grateful for (even if our words do not exactly correspond with our feelings) our brains see a different reality according to neuroscientists. When you blow up in your mind what you are thankful for THAT becomes your reality. If you focus on what is wrong, what makes you angry or what inspires hate or fear, THAT becomes your reality. We can choose, the scientists say.

Perhaps the universe sifting America like wheat will prove to the world once and for all that BOTH these realities exist. Not just the worldview we learned in school or the one we see on TV. And, considering the rate at which the universe dismisses my assumptions about reality, there are probable multiple realities beyond my imagination just waiting for me to explore! Hence the Copper Chronicles. Life is more than caring for hens, mothers, and myself. And surviving. Clearly there is much more!

Two hens in a tiny hutch on a cold day. What possible happiness is there to find? I stuffed the hutch with heaping amounts of warm straw this fall and happily discovered the nest is flooded with white downy feathers. Layer upon layer, as they spend more and more time inside. It’s a royal arrangement for my two beautiful hens!

I can’t take credit for this of course. But I am thankful there’s no hen rebellion, picketing and rage. No hens threatening to burn my house down because of the inhospitable environment of winter. Humanity can learn a lot from nature, mom says.  

Lesson from hens: Nature provides nice nests!

The hens and I have reached a kind of symbiotic relationship. Possibly because everyone needs a mother hen, I think, as much as mothers and hens seem underappreciated in this world. It may be that tenderness and kindness is all that is left, after the chaos of cultural dissolution, war, political and economic shifts sift America like wheat. I may be the most fortunate one when it’s all over because I have a hen and an egg.

Rat has completed a tunnel system under the hutch so that he can sneak into the food dish undetected for a few bits. He was so happy in the hay I decided to study his nature. Then I may best gauge how to prevent any unhappy, destructive, or anti-symbiotic relationship that may arise.

I am not so hard-nosed to prevent a creature from feeding itself. That is every creature’s duty, Thomas Jefferson insisted we be free to pursue. Independence. Liberty. Rat proves he is much more than a creature to be kept in a lab.  

BF Skinner’s idea was that all nature (including human beings) may be conditioned by sensory input, a steady supply of affirming messages, programming essentially. Brainwashing is a better word although the scientists believed it was necessary for “our good” which makes it seem respectable. I think I prefer the other 20^th century idea, that government may make no experiment of its citizens without their knowledge or consent. Or compensation!    

I may be dabbling in natural science- to the degree that I study and observe the nature of creatures in their environment. But my ambition is limited to ensuring rat is free to do his business and not upset my hens so they can do theirs. I won’t be doing any brainwashing of hens or rats, thank you. Conditioning them to serve my will. I am not a psychopath!

Lesson from hens today: Know with whom you coexist

Honesty. My latest discovery is that being honest with myself is the only hope of salvation. I don’t mean honesty alone guarantees happiness. But being dishonest or pretending is the surest way to fail at being a human being. Or being happy. My other discovery is that nature serves to help me eradicate the erroneous ideas I possess by its non-cooperation with my expectations.

It is difficult to know ourselves when we live in a sanitized version of reality – one where we make the rules and are the ultimate arbiter of ‘rightness’ and ‘wrongness’ of our behavior. That is like being the judge, jury, and executioner of our own souls. Who can then judge accurately? There must be a measure or gauge that is immune to our ability to delude ourselves. Otherwise, we may all imagine the most absurd things: That up is down, right is wrong, and 2+2=5.

Don’t feel bad about what I said: we all can believe ‘wrong’ things and delude ourselves. I don’t know where they come from exactly, but I do know if we “test” our beliefs in the world outside ourselves, we may find veracity in them. Or they may fall apart despite our best effort to enforce them. Sort of like Galileo dropping stones off the tower to see whether magnetic force would draw them to earth. We have to test them, and experience that our beliefs may sink like stones, too. Like my belief that having hens would be easy!

There seemed to be a natural order to the hen world last summer when Copper was alive. We were happy, I had an idea what I was supposed to do as the person, the assistant to the Mother Hen, Copper. Then calamity came, death. Despair, our security was lost. There was no happiness, only struggle and survival. Lately, I’ve modified my ambitions to survive a day. Happiness can wait!  

Then, I realized this useful idea: That happiness the way I defined it was impossible in this world. Happiness is like a feast, when all is in order, delights spread before you. Guests champagned! And fun-having commences with no rude interruptions or coarse remarks. It’s a holiday from the struggle and mayhem of the world outside. More like George Washington’s idea of festive and not George Constanza’s “Festivus”- the holiday set aside for the “Airing of Grievances.”

Happiness or what I had in mind as happiness was wholly dependent on things going my way. But I discovered happiness was not dependent on everything going my way. As Rat proved, everything going my way is certain not to happen that often.

Today, I experienced happiness because my hens were tough. I survived a few days, just doing minimal, maintaining my existence chores, like getting my door handle fixed for my car. Figuring out ever changing banking system issues designed to make my life easier, the claim goes. And, explaining to my mother repeatedly the difference between hens and roosters. It’s not clear why there is so much confusion on that issue.

I’ve not been overly worried about Rat sneaking some crumbs now and then. Seems like if the hens eat enough, the leftovers are up for grabs!

My hens are better off if they know how to survive, I realized, and not just living by my hand. So, occasions to free reign IN. Occasions away from full- food dish IN. Healthy snacks at routine times- Yes. Stagnation, daily grind, pathetic, helpless hens that can’t do anything like dummies NO.

I feel like I have grossly underestimated my hen’s resilience by overestimating my own importance in this relationship. Hovering hen mother, what an insult to my hen’s dignity!

Rules for Hen Mothers: Develop hen resilience!

Yesterday, I hemmed in an assumption that Rat served no useful purpose. As my journal entry subsequently proves, I am wrong again. I did qualify my statement about Rat, saying: “He serves no useful purpose that I can see.” Rocky, the Hen, taught me about “reservation” in an early Copper Chronicles entry. Reservation means qualifying your statements in case you are wrong. Rocky would be pleased!

Rat serves a few purposes so far, I notice. A useful deterrent to entitlement mentality. Yesterday, Rat jumping happily in and out of the hay pile was an unplanned challenge. “How dare life mess with my agenda?” My behavior I recognize is the inevitable conclusion of the “Me” generation. “Why doesn’t Rat realize I am the center of the universe and obey my will?” Suddenly who the interloper is in this scenario is less clear. Rat teaches humility.

Rat cleans up the messy crumbs my hens make. Another advantage. I notice he is not eating directly from the bowl, but rather gleaning around the edges for crumbs. Perhaps the hens taught him some manners, or maybe he heard my Winston Churchill speech and decided to modify his ambitions?

Rat made me laugh out loud, a good remedy for a head suffering increasing pressure. Laughing is like a volcano that erupts and sets your soul free from unrealistic expectations you have about yourself. I definitely need to laugh more.

This realization led me to understand something else. The stationary, the unchanging, the fixed way of going about life which may be ascribed as self-righteousness perhaps, can not be healthy. Hence nature creeps in to tangle with our assumptions. It ferrets out our weaknesses, it removes all our presumptions of entitlement clearly. That is a good thing!

And perhaps a “fixed” hen pen or way of life -without change- rigid, creates security but also breeds unhealthy interlopers. Actual interlopers I mean this time. If nothing changes in the hen pen for example, the rodents may become too comfortable! And invite friends and make more rodents! So, nature has a way of forcing our cooperation for our own good.

Stagnant environments, whether hen pens or minds, allow interlopers to breed and succeed.

Life Lesson for today: Know your interloper, even if it’s you!